


Northern Alliance

by lyn452



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Political Alliances, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 22:03:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16127651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyn452/pseuds/lyn452
Summary: Prompt: Arranged Marriage AU - Before Daenerys stepped foot on Dragonstone, she had a plan to gain the alliances of five of her seven kingdoms -- by marrying the King in the North, Jon Snow. But Jon has a condition before he can agree.





	Northern Alliance

_“If I’m going to rule in Westeros, I’m going to need to make alliances. The best way to make alliances is with marriage.”_

__Daenerys, Season 6, Episode 10_ _

 

* * *

  

They were two days from Dragonstone and Daenerys was eager to get off the ship and onto the shores of her homeland. Westeros, she thought. How odd that so much of her life revolved around a land she’d never stepped foot on. The land of her birth, which rejected her in favor of a boorish, drunk killer of a king.

She sipped her wine, trying to dismiss her less charitable thoughts and refocus on the conversations of her counselors. Lord Tyrion was talking about alliances and how they might be able to gain the country back from his family with minimal bloodshed.

Daenerys remembered what Tyrion had told her of his sister. She knew there would be no minimal anything against Cersei Lannister. She would fight like the lioness she was, she would fight until she died. Daenerys knew this and she suspected Tyrion must too.

Cersei was a lion, but Daenerys was a dragon. There could only be one winner. She thought of one of her favorite items of clothing, the lion skin Drogo gave her. She wondered with a small smile if that would be appropriate to wear into battle.

She looked down at the map spread before them, at the kingdom of Westeros. It seemed so large. Her fingers drifted over the different lands as she recalled what she could of each of them, until they lingered on the massive north. Barbarian dogs, Viserys had called them, but then he’d said similar things about the Dothraki, a people she’d come to view as her own.

“What of the north?” Varys asked, pulling Daenerys from her thoughts. She looked at her advisors, who also surrounded the table. None except Missandei seemed to have noticed her lapse in attention.

“Ah, yes,” Tyrion licked his lips. He glared at Varys before he continued to answer his queen, despite who’d asked the question. “We’ve heard some...interesting news from the north. It appears they have a king once again.”

Daenerys didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in her voice. “Another king? Didn’t they have enough already? Or did one survive the last war?” Daenerys only vaguely remembered the War of Five Kings and what she’d heard of it, as it was mostly over by the time news reached her. But were any of them still alive? She didn’t believe so.

Varys answered, “He is Jon Snow, bastard son of Ned Stark, and half-brother to the last King in the North, Robb Stark.”

Daenerys nodded in understanding. She thought carefully before asking. “Do we know what to expect of him? Should we prepare for a fight like with Cersei or should we be offering an alliance like with Yara?”

Tyrion considered for a moment, his fingers tenting as he thought. He answered just as carefully, “I knew the boy. He was a good lad. Smart, honorable, took direction but knew his own mind. I liked him. I think he would be a reasonable king.”

“So an alliance,” Daenerys said. “What would you propose as terms?”

Tyrion picked up his wine goblet, twirling the red liquid found within. “I would think that would be obvious: he’s a king without a wife, you’re a queen without a husband.” Tyrion let the sentence end, drinking his wine.

“Marriage,” Missandei said, concerned on behalf of her queen.

Daenerys was surprised as well. She hadn’t expected such a thing so soon. “Are you sure you want to marry me off so quickly?”

“I doubt a better candidate, or man, will come along. With this marriage, you’d gain the north as well as the other two kingdoms allied with them. Three kingdoms for one husband, not a bad bargain.”

Daenerys swallowed. She wasn’t eager to marry again, but she could find no fault in Tyrion’s argument. “I intend to rule a long time,” Daenerys said. “What if I need a marriage alliance later in my rule. Is it wise to give up my hand so soon?”

“So take a second husband,” Tyrion answered instantly.

Confused, Daenerys asked, “I thought that wasn’t the practice in Westeros.”

“It isn’t, but the Targaryens have never allowed such things to stop them. No reason to break tradition now.”

Daenerys bit her lip, considering it. It sounded like a good idea. It sounded almost perfect. But she’d learned never to trust perfect. If something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.

“If the northern alliance held, along with the allies you’ve already secured,” Varys pressed the point. “You’d have five of the seven kingdoms allied with you before a single arrow is loosened or a sword unsheathed.”

Daenerys thought about it. How could she reject the possibility of peace? She decided, nodding. “See it done.”

Her counselors all nodded, dismissing themselves. Daenerys wondered about this man, this Jon Snow. Her future husband. She wondered what he was like, wondered what kind of husband he would be, kind or cruel. She knew it wouldn’t matter in a political marriage, but she had resolved long ago never to be used again. It would ruin much if he was rough with her on their wedding night.

She pictured a rough northman, something like a Dothraki warrior, but covered in furs rather in leathers. She wondered if he was thoughtful and gentle or he would arrogantly dismiss her like so many others. She had heard of Stark loyalty and honor, but did that stretch to the illegitimate Starks as well.

Daenerys Targaryen spent much of the last leg of her journey wondering about Jon Snow.

 

* * *

 

Jon was glad he didn’t wear a crown, as he felt he wouldn’t be able to support his weary head with the added weight. There was so much to plan. So much to do, and no time. The dead were coming. They should have been begun preparing years ago, back when his father lobbed off that Night Watch deserter babbling about living dead men. The wars never should have happened. His father and brother should be here, leading them, not Jon.

Bastards were never the heroes of great stories, never the ones who saved them all, so what was Jon doing as King in the North?

He missed his family desperately at that moment. He loved Sansa and appreciated her counsel, trusted her more than anyone, but they were building a new relationship as their past never allowed for much of one. She had been too loyal to her mother to love Jon once she understood what he stood for.

Jon rubbed his eyes, he needed sleep.

Davos walked in, a note in his hand. Sansa trailed behind him. Jon knew it couldn’t be good news if they decided such a message was urgent enough to both meet with him.

Davos handed him the scrolled paper, “A raven just arrived from Dragonstone.”

Jon’s eyebrow raised, “Dragonstone?” He wondered if Stannis’ ghost had risen again. “Do we know someone from Dragonstone?”

“Tyrion Lannister,” Sansa answered.

Jon was surprised again. “I thought he ran off as he’s been sentenced to death by order of the queen.”

“Apparently he’s found a new queen in Daenerys Targaryen,” Ser Davos said, handing Jon the scroll.

Both of Jon’s eyebrows had risen at that statement. How did someone like Daenerys Targaryen even know of his existence? He knew of hers. Not much, but Aemon had received reports about her before his passing, which Jon and Sam had taken turns reading to the blind man. Jon knew it had been Aemon’s only regret in his dying days that he never met his last living relative. Never heard the fantastic stories of dragons hatching and cities being sacked from his grand-niece’s own lips.

He wondered if Daenerys Targaryen would have had any interest in meeting Aemon. Or would have she just seen it as an old, foolish man wasting her time? She was the bold, conquering Dragon Queen after all. Who had killed her brother and husband when it suited her, and crucified men to enjoy their screams as she ate her meals.

Jon pushed such things from his mind. Who knew what the truth was of things that had happened half the world away? He read the note quickly. Then he read it again more slowly this time.

It was as unbelievable as the other stories he’d heard about this Dragon Queen.

Sansa and Davos clearly already knew its contents as they immediately asked, “What do you think?”

Before Jon could answer, Petyr Baelish walked in. Jon shifted into a scowl immediately. He did not want to have this conversation with this man in the room. He only tolerated the man’s presence as he had little choice when he’d saved them all in the Battle of the Bastards, as the fight with Bolton to reclaim Winterfell was now dubbed.

He meant to dismiss him, but Littlefinger beat him to it, “Is it true? Has the Dragon Queen proposed marriage with you?”

Jon didn’t bother to question how this man could know such a thing. He wasn’t naive enough to think that there were no spies, no one working against him within his own home. He’d learned much the hard way, but he had learned it. He confirmed it, “Yes.”

Littlefinger gave him a calculating look. “Are you planning to accept it?”

Jon could feel all three gazes boring into him. He looked away from them all. “I don’t know.”

“You should consider it, your grace,” Davos said. “If even half the stories we’ve heard of her are true, she’d be a powerful ally or a dangerous enemy.”

Jon knew that. He knew the threat she could pose. But it paled in the shadow of what was coming for them all. How could he pledge his men to her war when he had his own? One that was far more important than queens squabbling over the Iron Throne?

As if sensing his weakness, Littlefinger pounced, circling Jon like a vulture. “They say she comes with a horde of unbeatable barbarian horsemen who’ve only been defeated once in combat. And the slave army that beat them makes up the rest of her army.” Petyr pulled out a previously discarded Westorsi map that Jon had lying on the table before him. “They also say that she’s allied with the Iron Isles, Dorne and the Reach.” Petyr smirked. “Not to mention the three dragons, if you believe such tales. She won’t be negotiating her marriage contract from a weak position, your grace.”

Jon heard the snark at his title, but restrained his temper. Davos looked thoughtful. “Dragons. Your grace,” he looked at Jon. “Fire-breathing dragons, and you said that fire kills these dead things?”

“Aye,” Jon said. His mind raced. Yes, with her armies and her dragons, the wall could be protected. They could beat the dead back. They could win.

A surge of hope Jon rose up in him. He hadn’t expected to ever feel hope again.

Sansa brought him back to reality, pointing out, “The northerners are already struggling to get along with the wildlings you brought south. They aren’t going to welcome an army of foreign invaders into their lands.”

Jon could feel his irritation at such outdated, unnecessary prejudices. What did any of that matter in the face of the risen dead? But he knew that Sansa was right. Still, “If I married Daenerys Targaryen, they wouldn’t foreign invaders, so much as my wife’s personal guard.”

A personal guard of how many thousand men? It was a better offer than anyone else would ever give him. They would stand a good chance of beating back the enemy with her forces pledged to him. Jon looked down to read the note again. Tyrion hadn’t mentioned pledging her forces to him though, just the north declaring for her. He would be allowed to keep his title of King in the North and the lands such a title granted him and he would get his choice in taking the name Stark or Targaryen. Any children of their union would be Targaryens though. It wasn’t an unfair deal, even if it was missing the one thing he needed from her.

If he accepted, there would still be some negotiation. And if he went south to negotiate, what would stop the fierce Dragon Queen from feeding him to her pets if he displeased her?

On top of all of that, he needed Cersei’s support as well. Given their families’ histories, it was unlikely a deal would ever be brokered between them, but if he abandoned his stance of neutrality in the impending war it would be impossible.

His advisers had been arguing as he explored his own thoughts, but he was brought back to them now. Davos was speaking about Stannis and his brother, “The late King Robert had always feared the Targaryen lass and her alliance with the Dothraki. It was something Stannis appreciated about his brother, seeing threats and potential battles better than anyone else. He had said that his brother was right to fear such a union.” Davos took a deep breath, before continuing, looking at Jon directly now. “She is a proven Targaryen conqueror and you are the King in the North.” Davos looked at the paper that outlined her terms. “And she’s offering better terms than Torhenn received from Aegon.”

Jon knew Davos was right. Knew there was no other choice. He looked to Sansa, “Gather the northern lords.”

“Jon…” Sansa seemed to want to say something but stopped herself. “What should I tell them?”

“As little as possible.”

“What are you going to tell them?”

Jon glanced at the scroll in his hand. “All dwarves are bastards in their father’s eyes.” Tyrion had ended the note with it, knowing it would prove himself true to Jon, reminding them of their connection from what felt like ages ago, when Jon had still been a boy. He had liked the dwarf. A lot. He didn’t think Tyrion would have reason to lure him to his doom. He answered Sansa, “I’m going to announce my departure for Dragonstone.” He licked his lips. “And tell them it’s likely I’ll return with a wife.”

Sansa’s eyes narrowed at him. Jon knew she wanted to say more. He added softly, “If you have time, I’d love for you to make me a marriage cloak. If it’s not too much trouble. I’m not sure which gods the queen prays to, but it would be best to be prepared for a southern wedding, I think.”

She softened at that request, nodding before she left. Lord Baelish, Jon noted unhappily, followed her closely. Davos put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m coming with you. You’ll need someone to watch your back down there.”

“I’ll need more than that from you. I’m going to need a shrewd negotiator in my marriage contract against Tyrion fucking Lannister.”

Davos smiled lightly, clasping Jon on the shoulder again before taking his leave. Jon walked to the window, looking down at a the training he’d ordered going on down below.

He didn’t have time to run off further south than he’d ever been (or at least since his birth). He had a war to prepare for and no time for politics and marriage and all that other nonsense.

But if it helped them win, he needed to do it.

Jon had never thought to be married, but he remembered Robb’s fears on the matter. How he might be married to some horrid woman from a land he didn’t know for an alliance. Robb had often worried about how politics could ruin his life, forcing him into a marriage for life to a woman he could never love.

Well, Robb hadn’t had his political marriage. He’d abandoned it in favor of one for love. And how had that turned out for him? Jon looked away. He’d wished once again, he’d seen his brother during the war. Known his thoughts better, understood what happened. But it would never be.

Instead he would be forced to learn from his brother’s mistakes. It was a familiar role. Robb had always been the more reckless and fearless, Jon always more cautious. Robb threw himself into whatever task was needed and he inevitably fall and hurt himself. Jon always watched and learned from his brother’s mistakes. Learned what to avoid and what not to do.

His brother had refused his arranged marriage, and Jon would again learn from his brother’s lesson and not make the same mistake.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys had spoke at length with Tyrion on her future husband. A man he’d met and apparently admired. She’d pumped him for information, learning as much as she could about Jon Snow prior to meeting him. She wanted to be ready for him. Wanted to know him as best she could so that she could approach this meeting from a position of power in every way.

She hadn’t thought to ask about his looks and Tyrion had never brought them up, so she was taken aback when she first saw the King in the North.

He was pretty. It wasn’t usually how she described men, but there were few other words that came to mind. He had lovely dark curls and doe eyes, a comely face and a warrior’s tight body, and she hadn’t pictured this man looking this way at all.

She pushed such thoughts down deep, trying to regain her cool, calm demeanor as they exchanged pleasantries. His voice, deep and with a rougher accent than Jorah’s, was quite pleasing to the ears. She wondered how it would sound at the height of passion.

She felt shamed at such a thought and then scolded herself for such shame. He was here for their wedding contract, a marriage that would have to be consummated. There was no need to play a blushing bride. If she could enjoy their marital relations, so much the better for the both of them.

There conversation shifted to the point of his arrival. She knew that Ellaria Sand and Olenna Tyrell weren’t exactly pleased with this alliance, feeling they hadn’t gotten so much from their alliances with her. But she had tempered them with the unspoken truth that neither of them would ever side with Cersei and had few good prospects to offer her in terms of a husband. She also reminded them that the Starks had just as much reason to hate the Lannisters as their families and if she gained their alliance, the Starks wouldn’t turn against any of their allies.

Still she could see their sour looks as they watch the king and queen talk, Hands interjecting when needed. Daenerys tried to ignore the unease such looks made her feel. They would begin their war tomorrow, she had invited all here to have at least one pleasant meeting before it all started. She had been happy that Jon made it down in time to meet the Martells and Tyrells, but now she wondered if it would have been better to speak with him separately, at later time.

She decided to cut to the point, “When do you want to be married?”

The king didn’t seemed bothered by her rudeness, instead he looked relieved at her bluntness. “Sooner the better,” he replied. Daenerys nodded, thinking the conversation over, but the King continued. “Though I have an additional condition. I will pledge my men to your fight, but you must first send yours to mine.”

Daenerys shot a look to Tyrion who was frowning, seemingly as surprised as her at this turn. “What fight is that? You are in rebellion against Cersei and her rule, but that is my fight as well. We are natural allies.”

His face and tone grew grave and he took a step forward. Daenerys signaled to her tensed men not to attack. “There is nothing natural about the fight I speak of, but an ancient evil born of magic. The dead have risen beyond the Wall and are coming for us all.”

A silence stretched in the cavern of the carved throne room.

“The dead,” Olenna questioned. She eyed Jon with suspicion. “Nonsense. Such tells are best left for old septas to tell.”

The king’s eyes didn’t leave Daenerys. “I give you my word, I speak the truth.”

“Your word?” Olenna snorted. “As I understand it, you were the former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Lord Snow. So since taking the black and your vows, you’ve titled yourself King in the North, claimed the lands of the North, the Vale and the Riverlands with your sister, and here you are seeking a wife. Is there a vow you haven’t broken, Bastard of Winterfell? And yet, you’re asking us to trust your word?”

Queen of Thorns, indeed, Daenerys thought with some amusement. The old woman asked the question better than Daenerys could have. She watched Jon grow shamefaced and stung, as he didn’t seem to have a response to the lady’s cutting remark.

Ser Davos, was that his name, stepped forward, saving his king. “Jon Snow did not claim any lands or titles, he refused Stannis Baratheon’s offers. He earned them. He was chosen to lead. He was given the title of king by the northern lords because those tough son-of-bitches wanted him as their king. He was born a bastard, given nothing, with rights to nothing. He’s a king not by birth, but by action.”

Daenerys noted that Jon Snow looked uncomfortable with the praise of his Hand. Olenna didn’t seem impressed. She snorted, “Yes, well, bastards who sit as kings have always worked out well in the past.”

“Being a bastard doesn’t define a person’s character. Doesn’t make them less worthy to rule.” Ellaria Sand pointed out.

Tyrion grumbled, “No, poisoning sweet little girls shows one’s character.” Ellaria glared at him in response, and behind her the Sand Snakes gripped their weapons.

Daenerys stood, taking control back. They did not gather here to bicker with each other. They gathered here to unite in her fight to claim the throne. All eyes turned to her. Slowly, she descended the massive stairs of the seat of Dragonstone.

Closer now, she could see Jon Snow’s discomfort. He looked ready to bolt from her, but to his credit, he didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t give her an inch as she invaded his personal space.

Good, she would have hated a weak coward for a husband.

“What do you know of how I became queen?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard stories, but I don’t know the truth.”

“Would you like me to tell you?”

“Would you tell me the truth or the lies the queen now says are the truth?”

A clever retort, no wonder Tyrion liked this man. “So you expect me to accept your words as truth but won’t extend me the same courtesy?”

“No, your grace. I have no reason to distrust you, as you have no reason to distrust me. We’ve only just met, after all. But as far as I can tell, your claim to the throne, the reason you’re here in Westeros, is based on your father’s name. A father my own fought to overthrow. You have no reason to trust me, your grace, but I have plenty of reasons to distrust you.” He glanced at her other allies. The Tyrells had sided with the Targaryens in the last war. The Martells had married into her family, were kinsmen, even if they’d stayed out of the fighting. The Starks had been Baratheon dogs, as her brother so often liked to say.

The tension in the room was thick. Daenerys knew her next actions would be key to her rule. She did not hesitate. “My father was an evil man.” She could see that she had caught the king off guard. His eyes glanced to Tyrion’s behind her. “I am sorry for what he did to your family. I would take it back if I could.”

Jon Snow took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Daenerys nodded before turning away. “We should have a feast, a celebration tonight of our new friendships tonight, I think. We have dark times ahead of us.”

She moved to leave, but the king stepped forward. “What of the army of the dead? Will you help us or not?”

She stopped. He was persistent, stubborn. She wondered how that might play out in their marriage. “We will discuss that further as we draft our marriage contact.” She signaled to her bloodriders. “These men will take you to your rooms. We’ll have baths drawn for you so that you may rest after your long journey and prepare for tonight.”

The king eyed the big warrior’s arakh. “You took my sword when I arrived here. Am I to be your prisoner then?”

Daenerys looked deeply into Jon Snow’s eyes. Her hands folding. “It is not my intention to keep you here against your will. But I am hosting other allies, people who are more important to me than a rebellious northern lord, if that’s what you chose to be.” She looked him up and down. “I would allow my husband to carry his weapon, however.” Perhaps that would give him some incentive to be quick with marriage negotiations.

She did not allow him another interruption, leaving with her party trailing her. Daenerys wanted her own time alone prior to the feast so she dismissed her men, only Missandei followed her into her chambers.

Daenerys sat down with a sigh. Her friend took a seat across from her, waiting for her queen to speak.

Daenerys enjoyed a moment of comfortable silence with her friend, before her thoughts forced her to ask aloud, “What did you think of him? My future husband?”

“I think he carries himself like a warrior. He reminds me of Grey Worm: a powerful man unused to any power,” replied Missandei.

That Jon Snow reminded Missandei of Grey Worm pleased Daenerys. That meant he must not be a bad man in her closest friend’s eyes. “What of his story about the living dead men?”

“It’s a bit unbelievable, but there must be some truth to it for him to even mention it. We had tales in Naarth of men and women who rose again from death when a magic man touched them. Essos told such tales as well. Perhaps there is something to fear beyond the Wall.”

There was some wisdom in those words. Why would Jon Snow make it a condition of their marriage, of a mutually beneficial arrangement neither were likely to find better, that might anger her enough to call it off if they were just made-up ghosts? He didn’t seem mad. He seemed determined. So there must be some truth to what he was saying. Some monster beyond the Wall coming south.

She’d seen the Wall in her visions. It was a massive block of ice and iron, surely built to keep monsters out rather than wildlings.

Daenerys would think more on it later. “Send in my handmaids. I think the red silk for tonight’s dinner.”

Missandei smirked. “If you wear that dress, you’ll be married before dinner ends just so he can have his way with you tonight.”

Daenerys laughed, the sound echoing like the bells of a Dothraki khal. “My brother taught me long ago that the right dress can land a woman a husband.”

 

* * *

 

Jon had assumed the tales of the queen being the most beautiful woman in the world were exaggerations. That she would be much like Cersei Lannister, pleasant enough to look at, but not to his taste. 

He had been wrong. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He had forgotten how to breath at the sight of her.

At least the wedding night would be easy, even if the rest of the marriage turned to shit.

If their first conversation was any indication that is exactly what their marriage would be. He had been right to be fearful of leaving her with his life. Why had he come here? Why had he decided to play king? He had no right to be here. He should have never even considered marrying a damn Targaryen queen. But what right did he presume such a thing?

He was nearly certain she was going to kill him. Those dragons of hers could make a meal of him without effort even if he still had Longclaw.

Dragons. Gods, but they were a sight to see. He’d devoured all of the stories of dragonriders in Winterfell as a child and still longed for more, but none of them had even come close to the sight of a real dragon. He’d heard tales that the queen rode the big black one, her own Black Dread. By gods, he hoped he’d have the chance to see it before she roasted him.

He let his mind wander, pictured her riding her dragon to battle the Night King. He saw her dragon’s flame burn the army he feared so much away with little effort. His heart leapt at such an impossible dream.

Then his thoughts shifted, and he imagined her riding him instead. He imagined how her bouncing teats would taste as he suckled them. He imagined her face screwed up in passion as she rode his hard dick. He imagined the softness of her skin and silkiness of her hair as his hands caressed her. As she was his, his wife, and he could do as he pleased with her.

Jon stopped such thoughts before he could get carried away, or at least more carried away, lifting himself from his bath. Such thoughts would do him no good. He toweled himself off, willing his amorous thoughts away and his flagging erection to fall back down completely.

He couldn’t let her beauty distract him. He had prepared himself for such difficulties on the trip down here. He had assured himself that he would act as a king and not a green boy.

It had all been easier said than done.

Jon dressed in his best armor, as he brought no finery with except an outfit to be married in, as he hadn’t expected any feasts but the one for his wedding. He dressed himself up as best he could, but felt foolish doing it. He wasn’t built for feasts and fine folks, he was the boy seated in the back of the room, the one who had too much to drink before sneaking off to practice sword fighting again.

There was a knock on his door and Jon walked over to answer it. On the other side was Ser Davos, who looked about as pleased as he did to be going to a feast. Jon left the door open and walked back into his room to fetch his Stark signal breastplate to finish his outfit.

Davos shut the door, eyeing Jon wearily. “What do you think the queen’s plan is for tonight?”

“What do you mean? It’s a feast for her allies like she said.”

“I know what she said, but do you think it’ll be that simple? If all goes to plan, we’ll have a wedding feast soon enough, so why bother tonight?”

Jon thought about it. “To show off. Just like with the dragon this morning, it’s to show her strength and why we should ally with her. Tyrion’s not dumb and she doesn’t seem to be either, so she must know that most of her alliances are built on hatred for the Lannisters rather than love for her. Showing her strength and wealth reassures her allies that she’s going to win. Gives us all a reason to follow her.”

Davos nodded. “I would agree. It also means she’ll put pressure on you tonight for the marriage, and I want you to be ready for it.”

“I’ve already agreed to the marriage, it’s why I’m down here.”

“But terms still need to be settled and we’re both going to be angling in the upcoming days. That’s why we need to have a talk before we go to the dining hall.”

Jon’s face remained stoic as he said, “I had that talk years ago, Davos. I know what to expect on the wedding night.”

“Not that,” Davos said through clenched teeth. “We need to talk strategy. She will be using every tool she can to get you to agree to the marriage without thinking it through. You need to do the same.”

“Do you mean the dragons? Because even if Ghost was with me, I doubt he could take a dragon.”

“No,” Davos sighed, as if he were talking to a slow child. “I’m talking about sex. She is going to try seduce you tonight, and you need to seduce her first.”

Jon didn’t gape, but his brain sputtered at the thought. “What?”

Davos spelled it out clearly. “You are a king. She is a queen. You are equals.” He stepped closer. “You are a man. She is a woman. Make the woman behind the queen want the man under the king. Flirt with her, seduce her.”

Jon felt his stomach drop. He could handle any battle, could even manage politics to an extent, but this? He was pretty sure he’d rather face the Night King again instead. “I don’t know…”

“I know,” Davos sighed. “The big ginger wildling would be better than you at seducing her, but you are what we got, your grace.” Davos took Jon’s shoulders. “You can do this, Jon. Your honorable manner and your good looks will do half the work for you. Just...touch her a little more than necessary. Not sexually, just fingers on her wrist, a hand at the small of her back. Talk softer, force her to lean in closer to you.” He squeezed Jon’s shoulders. “You can do this.”

Jon didn’t think that was true. Once again, he wished Robb was here, doing this instead of him. Robb could charm anyone. Jon had always been the awkward one. “I’m going to make a fool of myself,” he grumbled.

“Just try not to get us killed, your grace.” Davos opened the door.

Jon wished life would stopping asking for the impossible from him.

 

* * *

 

The hall was mostly full when he arrived. No one stood to acknowledge him as king, but then no one here had made him their king. Jon didn’t mind, but Davos scowled at the lack of respect. He took the seat he was directed to, surprised to be sitting at the queen’s right hand. Jon hesitated before sitting, but Davos said, “Might as well get used to sitting in the consort’s seat. It’ll be yours soon enough.” 

It made Jon want to hesitate more, but he sat. He hadn’t truly thought of the fact that with this marriage he’d be king consort to all of the Seven Kingdoms. He might even wind up as heir to the throne if they didn’t produce children.

He grasped the wine goblet before the servant finished pouring to take a calming drink. He had been so focused on Daenerys and her armies and the threat beyond the Wall, it seemed suddenly he hadn’t thought this marriage through at all. What would this marriage be like? Would it be like his lord father’s and turn to love or like the king and queen he’d seen in Winterfell those years ago, with its barely concealed contempt? What kind of marriage was the queen looking for? What would she want? Would he be little more than a show horse, only sent for when he would be needed otherwise sent away? Was that what he wanted? Such an arrangement might keep him in his home in Winterfell. He supposed it would depend on what the queen, his wife, was like.

He didn’t even know this woman he was going to pledge his life to. This was a mistake. She was a queen and he was nothing but a bastard. Why had he come down here? What would she do to him when she realized her mistake?

Jon was pulled from his whirlpooling thoughts by the heavy doors swinging open and admitting the queen. Jon stood along with everyone else but when he saw the queen, his eyes immediately darted to Davos, who had an eyebrow raised.

His Hand had been right. Daenerys was wearing a dress that was nearly obscene. For one thing, Jon could plainly tell that tell she wasn’t wearing small clothes under it. He was grateful for the height of the table as it kept his immediate reaction to the sight hidden behind it. The red silk poured over her body like liquid, hanging off exposed shoulders and only kept up by two small silver chains that Jon could see had dragon heads at the end of them when she got closer. She passed by and he saw he was correct about her lack of small clothes as the back of the dress opened to show a fair amount of her naked skin. Her exotic perfume filled his nostrils as he tried to regain his balance at the sight of her.

As she took her seat, Jon finished his wine. This was going to be a long dinner.

Jon waited for the servant to refill his glass as Davos leaned over to whisper. “Compliment her dress.”

Jon couldn’t believe his Hand. He wanted Jon to compliment the weapon that would surely destroy him before the evening was through. He could see that his Hand was serious, and with a gulp, Jon turned to the queen.

He had meant to give a sincere compliment, something about the fineness of the fabric or maybe something about the Targaryen red. What came out of his mouth was, “Aren’t you cold in that?”

He was going to get them killed. He didn’t need to see Davos’ face to know the man’s reaction to his blundering. Luckily, the queen’s only reaction was an arched eyebrow. She seemed a bit taken aback by his comment, but she found her voice quickly enough. “I spent my life in the deserts of Essos, Lord Snow. I am used to wearing far less.”

Jon was happy to hear Ser Davos step in for him, as Jon was busy wondering what far less looked like. “Jon Snow is King in the North, your grace. He’s not a lord.”

The queen gave a tight smile. “Of course,” she said, not correcting herself on Jon’s title. She took a sip from her wine glass.

The exchange gave Jon the time to come back to himself. No more distractions, he scolded himself.”You’ll have to forgive my northern manners, your grace. It’s my first time south, and we dress for warmth rather than fashion where I’m from.”

“Yes, I’ve been warned about your northern barbarian ways,” Jon could tell from the glint in her eyes she was joking. So the Dragon Queen could be funny, interesting. “Actually I had a man of the North in my company for years, Jorah Mormont.”

Jon was surprised to hear the name. “Jorah Mormont?”

Daenerys seemed just as surprised by the recognition. “You knew him?”

“No, I knew his father well though. Jeor Mormont. The old bear. He was my predecessor as Lord Commander at the Wall. I learned a lot from him before his passing.” The memories made Jon remember both the good and bad from his early days on the Wall.

“I called Jorah my old bear as well. Funny, that we should share such a connection.” He watched her play with her wine glass using one delicate finger.

It was strange. Half a world apart and yet they would have a mutual connection that lead them here. Jon merely nodded in response.

Daenerys’ attention was captured by Tyrion on her left and Jon was almost happy for the reprieve. He still didn’t know what to make of this queen. She seemed kind, but she was also cunning and proud. When Jon tried to picture a marriage with her, all he could think of was Catelyn Stark’s disapproving eyes on him when she caught him beating Robb in the practice yard. Daenerys Targaryen was far beyond his station, and he was wrong to reach for her.

But she had chosen him. She reached for him. If she was so far above him, who was he to deny her?

Jon was pulled into a pleasant conversation between Davos and Missandei. It was strange to watch Davos effortlessly flirt with the pretty woman despite her polite disinterest, and Jon wished he could do the same with the queen.

The first course was brought out, then the second. Both were fit for a queen. Jon kept silent, used to watching during dinners rather than participating in them. He noticed how the Sand Snakes seemed determined to flirt with every male who crossed their path, with one of them going after the women as well. The most amusing exchange of the evening was when Olenna and Tyrion exchanged barbs.

But most of all, Jon noticed the queen Daenerys. She seemed to be a bit of a watcher as well, joining in with conversations, but listening more than talking. He was surprised by this, as he saw her commanding presence and assumed that was natural for her. She caught his gaze more than once, but he always turned away before she could drag him into a conversation.

It wasn’t until dessert that they talked again. Jon smiled at the lemon tarts, wishing Sansa could be here to enjoy them. She deserved even little joys.

Daenerys must have notices. “Do you enjoy lemon tarts, my lord?”

Jon knew he should correct her usage of his title, but he truly didn’t care. He responded, “I like them fine, but they are my sister’s favorite.”

“Sansa, right?” Jon’s eyebrow raised, wondering where she would have gotten that information before seeing Tyrion behind the queen. “Then your sister and I share a commonality. They are my favorite as well. I will be sure to have lemon treats ready for us both anytime she visits.”

Jon liked her consideration for his sister though words were easy. Her actions were what he wanted to judge her on. He decided to tell her as much, “I must confess, your grace. Sometimes I miss the Wall. There were no fancy dinners, but every man was equal there. There were no titles or family names, just actions to judge a man on.”

“I saw the Wall once.” Jon was surprised. When would’ve Daenerys Targaryen seen the Wall? She must understood his look, as she answered him immediately. “In my dreams. I saw the Wall in my dreams.” Her eyes gained a far-off look. “I once saw a winter rose growing from a chink in the ice. It had the sweetest smell.”

“I’ve never seen a flower on the Wall, but the ice isn’t impenetrable. I climbed it once.”

Now she held the curious look. “How did you climb it?”

Jon told her the tale, but left out the redheaded girl he was with, as he wasn’t prepared to test a queen’s jealousy, even for a dead woman. Their conversation flowed more freely now. They spoke lightly of their families and his home in the north. The conversation never got particularly deep or enlightening, but it was pleasant enough and Jon could feel his guard lower.

One of the Dothraki spoke to his queen in their strange language and Daenerys replied with a smile. Jon had no idea what was said but it cause the rest of the Dothraki to cheer. He used the noise as an excuse to lean in close to the queen to ask, “What did you say to them?”

She shivered at his closeness, reaching out to take another sip of wine. “They wanted my dancers to come out and I had them sent for.”

“Your dancers?”

“They were a gift from my last…” She hesitated, and Jon suspected she was going to say her last husband. So king’s jealousies were feared as well. “They were a gift.”

“People can be a gift?” Jon didn’t quite understand.

“In Essos, they could be. I freed them, of course. I freed all of the slaves in Slaver’s, now Dragon’s, Bay. But they are still beautiful dancers. Trained since birth, so their movements are about as perfect as can be.”

Jon frowned, “But what if they didn’t want to be dancers?”

The queen’s head snapped towards him, and for an awful moment Jon feared he gave some offense, but then the queen leaned forward and kissed him. And Jon felt his heart stop.

It was a light, soft kiss, but it felt like more than that. Jon’s hand drifted to Daenerys’ silver hair, which felt like silk. Jon wanted to deepen the kiss. He wanted to do more than kiss. He wanted to take this woman to bed and make her his wife in the most primal way possible.

He knew it was foolish to feel this much for her so quickly. Too quickly. It was simple lust, which he should have better control on. Davos warned him that the queen would do this. So Jon tried to contain his feelings, but the combination of wine, and soft lips, and tantalizing skin made Jon want to use his kingship to declare him and Daenerys married just so he could take her to bed tonight.

She broke off the kiss, and Jon let her go. He bit his to taste her on them. He reached for his wine as she did and Jon was pleased to see the blush staining Daenerys’ cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he was seducing her as well as she was him, but it was still nice to know he wasn’t completely alone in his feelings.

They didn’t talk as the dance began. Jon was impressed, if somewhat scandalized, by these foreign dancers. They were as perfect as Daenerys had said.

He struggled for something to say to her. He had to convince her of his plight. He had to marry her and bring her army back with him north. It was the only chance they all had. But how? How did he do that?

When the dancers finished, he gave them polite applause. Daenerys turned to him. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Jon answered in a way he recognized was inappropriate, “Your grace, I cannot enjoy such frivolities. The dead march towards us all while we sit here and do nothing. We have to prepare for war.”

Any goodwill Jon might have won with her was gone now, as he saw the icy Dragon Queen return. The lonely boy in him was sad to see sweet Daenerys go, but he knew he needed the Dragon Queen for his fight. Their fight. He had to win her allegiance.

Jon could feel Davos’ glare on the back of his head. He knew he would be forced to explain his actions when this was all over. It had been going so well.

She sighed, “You are persistent, my lord. Like a dog with a bone.” She stood and Jon reluctantly followed her lead. “We plan for war tomorrow and we will discuss our marriage terms after.” She looked into his eyes, and he could see the fire in them.

He nodded. “If we are to be married, then your enemies are my enemies. Your battles are mine and mine are yours.”

She studied him for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And she left.  

 

* * *

 

Daenerys didn’t know what to make of this Jon Snow. He reminded her bit of the khal, as he was a bit rough and commanding though he also seemed to have a gentler manner the khal. Jon Snow was quiet and careful to the khal’s assured arrogance. She thought she liked him, or at least agreed with Tyrion’s assessment that she could do far worse as far as husbands went. 

Still, she wished she knew him better. He was different then the men she’d known during her lifetime. He didn’t seem to even notice her beauty. She had been almost furious when his only reaction to her dress had been to ask her if she was cold. It might have been refreshing to have a man not drooling over her, but she had hoped to use his weakness for her beauty to her advantage. It was frustrating that he not only didn’t fall for her trap, but didn’t seem to notice her good looks at all. Was she getting herself into another passionless marriage? She knew she would do it for the sake of her people, but she didn’t like the prospect.

But then she remembered his kiss. She certainly felt some passion even in such a brief touching of lips. The incident embarrassed her slightly, as she was a queen, not some green girl. But his words had been her reaction to the slave dancers exactly. Her wine-stained mind had decided that meant he might be her destiny, and she had let herself kiss him before thinking it through.

Being from the north, she had expected his frankness, but she hadn’t expected his brooding. She wasn’t sure she liked it. She preferred it when she could read a man easily and adjust her strategies accordingly. Jon Snow was not so easily read, so she didn’t know how to act around him.

As the handmaids finished braiding her hair and lacing up her dress for the day, she marched out to the room with the Painted Table. She had a full day today with the war meeting first and the marriage negotiation to follow.

She wasn’t sure which would be more difficult. Part of her wished she hadn’t invited Jon to the first meeting, but he was one of the few Westrosi veterans on this island. It would be foolish not to ask him for his opinions. If all went well, he would be her husband by the end of the week, and while she had no problem keeping a husband to the side, only bringing him out when necessary, she preferred a marriage that resembled a partnership. So it would be best to start building trust early rather than later.

Daenerys just wished she knew if she could trust Jon Snow. She knew the reputation of the Stark honor and had heard that Jon Snow possessed more than his fair share of it. But Tyrion had also spoken of his wife, Sansa, the only other surviving Stark. She had learned to survive King’s Landing through lies and playing the game, so what hard lessons had Jon Snow had to learn to survive his family’s downfall?

She supposed she would learn such things in time. The important thing now was to arrange the marriage and be done with it. She could learn her husband’s character after her war with Cersei was won and the Iron Throne was hers. It could wait.

Daenerys entered the room, finding everyone waiting for her. They all rose as she entered and she strode to the top of the Painted Table. Olenna sat again, leaning heavily on her walking stick, but everyone else kept standing to match their queen.

After some pleasantries were exchange, Tyrion walked the table through his plan. Daenerys had heard some of this already, but she listened to the plan in its entirety. She trusted Tyrion, trusted in his wisdom. Part of her wanted to show off her power, overwhelm and completely destroy her enemies as her ancestor Aegon had done before her, but she understood why a softer approach was needed here. She trusted her Hand.

After some disagreement, her allies agreed. Daenerys prepared to dismiss the women until she noticed Jon’s frown. “Lord Snow, you look concerned. Do you have something to say?”

He seemed surprised to catch her attention. He looked to the painted figures and hesitated, “I’m not sure it’s my place…”

“I invited you here. I invited you to sit at this table for this meeting. I don’t know what stories you’ve heard, but I do not burn men alive for dissenting opinions. You are here because I want to hear what you have to say. Please, tell me.”

Jon studied her for a moment, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time. It was a look that made Daenerys fidget under such an intense gaze, but she refused to show that. Finally Jon said, “This is a clever plan, but it’s a shit battle strategy.”

Daenerys was taken aback by his bluntness. Jon continued, pointing at the map to illustrate his point. “Casterly Rock is a pointless objective. You’re not gaining anything by holding it.”

“Your own brother attempted to capture Casterly Rock in his war. It’s a good, sound move. It will deal a devastating first blow.”

“That was in a war against the Lannisters, not the king directly. You need to capture King’s Landing.” Jon picked up the relevant pieces rearranging them. “I think your idea to siege King’s Landing with Westorsi forces makes sense, but send the foreign armies to reinforce the Reach. That way,” Jon looked to Olenna, “your people will see them not as foreign invaders but protectors.” Jon studied the map, lost in his own thoughts. Daenerys wondered if this was normal for him. He certainly seemed to be in his element, planning a battle. She wished she had sat now as she wanted to rub her legs together in the sudden rush of heat between them. “The Reach feeds the Seven Kingdoms, we need its food for a sustained war.”

Tyrion, frustrated that his plan had been torn apart by a man he’d last known as a kid, said, “What makes you such an expert on war strategy? I know my brother. I think I can outsmart him.”

Jon looked up, blinking. It reminded Daenerys of a dog, and she stifled a giggle. “I mean no offense, Lord Tyrion,” Jon said. “But I know more about battles than you. You’re thinking too politically about this, worried too much about the queen’s image. The best battles, the best wars, are always the shortest ones. We have more men and more power. We need to show them it’s hopeless immediately. We need to destroy them as quickly as possible.”

“My brother…”

“Lost to mine in every battle they fought. And I knew how to beat Robb in a fight. Your father won that war. I’ll beat Jaime. You beat Cersei and our queen will take the throne.”

Tyrion nodded, but still looked conflicted. Daenerys knew the decision was hers in the end, so she asked Jon, “So is that the plan you propose we take?”

Jon’s eyes met hers. “No, I think we need to march our armies north. The Army of the Dead marches south and that is only fight that matters.” Daenerys noticed that her allies who had been listening carefully before rolled their eyes at the king’s imaginary foes. “But if you insist on this pointless war and unifying your power first, then I insist that you do it as quickly as possible.”

Daenerys looked into the eyes of this man who might be her husband. She decided to test him. “I could take my three dragons to King’s Landing and burn it to the ground. That would be the quickest way to end the war.”

Daenerys saw Tyrion begin to object, but she silenced him with a look. She waited for Jon’s response. He looked at her with something akin to disgust; it was not a look Daenerys liked. “I would never suggest such a thing.”

The queen turned her attention back to the painted table. “Nor would I,” she confirmed, and she was disappointed to hear several exhales of breath. Did they all see her as merely the mad king’s daughter? Daenerys looked at the map again, unsure which course of action to follow. “You’ve given me much to think about, my lords. Let us move on to marriage negotiations while I think it over.”

She dismissed those who weren’t involved in her marriage, but Olenna requested time alone with her first. Daenerys acquiesced even if she noticed Tyrion’s annoyance in being kicked out of the room for a moment.

Alone, the so-called Queen of Thorns dropped any pretense of politeness she might have had previously. “Interesting choice for a husband, the Bastard of Winterfell.” Daenerys felt a jolt of loyalty, but she kept it down, letting Olenna continue. “Though he seems a bit smarter than the rest of the men in his family. He might even get the chance to be an old man with the right wife to guide him.” She studied Daenerys. “An increasingly rare feat for a Stark man.”

“He does seem smart and brave. I see why his men follow him.”

Olenna snorted. “Don’t let his pretty face get to you, girl. It’s nice to have, but love and foolishness have no business in marriage.” The old woman took a moment, as if considering something. “He does seem a clever man though, much like your Hand. You’ve surrounded yourself with clever men.”

Daenerys sighed. “Do you think it would have been better to surround myself with idiot sycophants?”

Olenna smirked. “You remind me of my granddaughter, Margery. She was a great queen, loved by all.”

Daenerys softened. “That’s the kind of queen I want to be, like your granddaughter was.”

“I don’t know that that would be wise. She’s dead, after all.” Olenna leaned in. “I was never all that loved. Do you know how I’ve gotten as far as I have?”

“How?” Daenerys asked.

“I’ve ignored all the clever men I’ve known and their smart plans. They are sheep. Even if they call themselves lions and wolves. But are you a sheep?”

“No,” Daenerys answered. “I am a dragon.”

“So be a dragon.”

 

* * *

 

Waiting outside the door, Jon paced in the corridor they were in. He could feel Tyrion’s angry gaze on him. He wanted to apologize, but he refused to show such weakness. He had nothing to apologize for. 

Tyrion didn’t address what he was thinking directly, which frustrated Jon to hear. “Why did you bother coming down here if you were planning to put insane, impossible to meet conditions on the terms of your marriage?”

“I have to,” Jon stopped pacing for a moment, closing his eyes. “And my terms aren’t insane.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me say your plan out loud, so you can hear it, as I think that might help you. Your plan is to send the entirety of our armed forces to the Wall to stop an army of living dead men. That’s your plan. We’re going to ignore Cersei completely, which I can assure you she won’t do, and go north, opening ourselves up to a two-front war and letting her take any land she wants in the meantime.”

Jon sighed. He knew it sounded crazy. If only he could show them. If they could see the threat he spoke of, they would all understand. Nothing else mattered. “If your queen wants to rule over more than a graveyard, she must listen to me.”

“My queen,” Tyrion’s eyebrow raised. “If this all goes according to plan, she’ll be more yours than mine soon enough.”

Jon licked his lips, thinking of how Daenerys looked last night. She would be his, if all went according to plan. No, he couldn’t think about such things. There was no time, more important concerns than beautiful wives. “The north will not submit to another southern leader. You need me, Lord Tyrion.”

Tyrion’s look soured further. “If what you’re saying is true, then you may need us more, Jon.”

Jon whipped around to look at Tyrion. Before he could respond, the door opened and Olenna hobbled out. She stopped in front of Jon. “You know, in all my years, I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen a good king.” She studied Jon up and down. “Maybe good kings don’t exist. Maybe we’d all be better off with queens.”

“My brother was a good king,” Jon said.

Olenna’s eyes narrowed. “Good kings don’t underestimate Tywin Lannister. Even Aerys understood that before he lost his mind.”

Jon frowned, wanting to defend Robb further, but Olenna walked away. Jon fumed for a moment, but he saw Davos waiting for him in the doorway of the room. Jon strode in, trying to put away his feelings.

Daenerys was now looking out the window, faced away from the table. Jon wondered briefly what the old woman had told the queen. She made no move to turn around.

Tyrion spoke for her, sitting down, allowing both Jon and Davos to sit as well. “Our queen would like to be wed sooner rather than later. Preferably before she goes to war.”

Jon nodded.

“We don’t have a weirwood here on Dragonstone, so I’m afraid we might not be able to follow the old ways exactly. I planned a simple ceremony that combined some of the old, some of the new, with a little exotic flavor for our Essos subjects.”

Jon nodded again.

Tyrion threw a scroll to Davos, who caught it. “Our proposed marriage contract.”

Davos took off the twine binding the paper and read the document slowly. The rest of the room waited in relative silence, the only break being Tyrion asking a servant to fetch him some wine. Davos handed the scroll to Jon. He skimmed the document, noticed what was missing, and glanced to the queen who still had her back turned.

Not willing to give her the upperhand, Jon signaled for Davos to answer on his behalf. Davos did so. “This document mentions nothing about future military plans.”

Tyrion swallowed the wine he’d been sipping. “Well, of course, our alliance would be a military one as well. It’s implied.”

Davos’ eyes narrowed. “If it’s not agreed on and written down, it’s just bullshit.”

Tyrion licked his lips. He glanced back to his queen, who appeared to give him no attention. Still, after a moment Tyrion returned his attention to the table. “Are you seriously saying that you want it to be a condition of your marriage that we fight your _Army of the Dead_ first?”

“That is correct,” Davos answered, briefly looking to Jon who still focused on Daenerys.

Tyrion’s mouth was ajar as he looked to Jon, incredulous. “Do you actually expect us to agree to that?”

Jon decided to answer that for himself. “Yes. I need your help to defeat the dead. It’s the only reason I came down here.”

“I don’t believe that,” Daenerys said. She turned around. “I’m just a frail woman, so I know little about wars, but Torrhen Stark, your ancestor, bent the knee to Aegon Targaryen, my ancestor, to save his people. You seem to be a good king. Would you throw away your people’s lives so carelessly as to go to war with me?”

“You think you’re a frail woman who knows nothing of war?” Jon chuckled. “I’ve met Thenns who were cuddlier than you.”

The queen seemed confused. She looked to Tyrion, who shrugged. Tyrion asked, “What are Thenns?”

“A particularly bloodthirsty tribe of wildlings.”

Jon could practically hear Davos’ head slap, but his attention was on the queen. She visibly sputtered, her mouth open and moving but no words coming out. She finally blurted out, “Who are you, Jon Snow?”

It was adorable and was the most amusing thing Jon had seen from the queen so far. He stood, quite enjoying himself being the cool, collected one while the queen misstepped. “I am King in the North. If you want my allegiance, I’ve given you my terms.”

Without another word, Jon left.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys didn’t know how to react to what just happened. Her first instinct was fury.  She wanted to storm after Jon Snow, yelling and spitting fire as effectively as any of her children. But she refrained, knowing it wouldn’t be queenly and she couldn’t afford to alienate her potential ally and husband.

So instead, she turned her anger on Tyrion. “Why did you tell me to marry this man? He is stubborn and uncooperative. He doesn’t listen. He seems to do whatever he likes.”

“All common traits among rulers, I’ve found,” Tyrion said under his breath.

Daenerys stopped her pacing to glare at her Hand. “I heard that.”

In full voice, Tyrion said, “It was the opening offer. I’ll talk him down.”

“Army of the Dead and White Walkers,” Daenerys truly considered Jon’s words for the first time. “What is all that even about? What does it mean?” Should she believe such...unbelievable nonsense?

Then how many people insisted that the dragons would never return?

“They’re stories,” Tyrion dismissed. “Old stories told to children at bedtime to scare them.” He took a drink. “It’s dreary in the North, your grace. You must allow them their flights of fancy.”

Still, it stuck with Daenerys.

 

* * *

 

Jon looked out over the cliff, feeling the wind whip his cape around. His bannermen had been right. He’d been a fool, coming here. Despite all the reassurances, he knew he was a prisoner here. If he asked for his boat or sword, he’d be denied. 

He was nothing more than a northern fool.

Jon saw Tyrion approach. The little man struggled to climb some of the rocks, but Jon was in no mood to help him. When the Hand got close enough, Jon asked, “What do you want, Tyrion?”

Tyrion huffed out a breath, clearly unused to the the physical effort. “Do you understand how a negotiation works? We propose something, then you propose something, then we counter-propose and so on and so forth until we reach a mutual compromise.”

“There is nothing to compromise on. You know what I want.”

Tyrion shook his head, clearly frustrated. “You have to give me something, Jon.”

Jon shook his head. He knew it sounded crazy. He had dismissed it himself as loony rantings when he first heard about it. You had to see it to believe it. But he also knew it was true. And they were wasting precious time debating it.

Tyrion sighed, “You’re making me look bad, you know. Daenerys thinks I’m trying to marry her off to some crazy man. Not to mention that little stunt at the war meeting. I think I preferred you as a dumb, drunk kid to this savvy, if slightly insane, king.”

Jon thought of the dumb kid Tyrion had known. Sometimes Jon wished he could go back to those days now. He had been so sad and brooding, but with no real problems. How Jon wished to go back to a childhood where his biggest problem was a cold stepmother. He’d take a thousand Catelyn Starks over facing the Night King again. “Do you think I’m a complete idiot or a madman?”

“No,” Tyrion admitted.

“Then why would I come down here with that stipulation if it weren’t true?” Jon thought of Daenerys. She was probably the most pressed match in the world. Jon still wasn’t sure what she saw in him, but he knew how lucky he would be to gain her for a wife. Together, they would be hard to beat.

A dragon roar shook the mountain, causing Jon to flinch. He worried that Daenerys had come to roast him alive after all. But Tyrion didn’t look worried, which calmed Jon slightly. The Hand explained, “Her majesty is merely playing with her children.”

Jon shook his head, looking in the direction he thought the sound emitted from. “She’s so tiny. How does a woman that small command such beasts?”

“They love their mother,” Tyrion answered. “Not that either of us would understand that.”

Jon brooded. Tyrion eventually came back to the point. “You are not the only ally we have on the island. If we were to do as you asked, and go north with our forces, what would happen to them? They might very well revolt. So, with your alliances with the Vale and Riverlands, we’d gain three lands with the marriage, but if we agreed to your terms, we’d lose three lands in the process, leaving us right back where we started.”

Jon could understand that and he wished he had a solution to it. He said nothing, letting Tyrion grow more frustrated until he stomped away. Jon took another moment before walking away from the cliff himself. He wasn’t quite ready to go back into the castle, so he walked around the island instead.

He had no real destination in mind, instead just wanting to get lost in his thoughts, which centered around Daenerys and the Night King and the dilemmas both presented him with. Eventually, he made his way to a cave on the beach. He had just wanted to get out of the cold wind that had picked up for a moment, but instead found his solution.

Rushing back to the castle, Jon found Davos in his room. Without preamble, Jon said, “Dragonglass, there is dragonglass on this island.” Davos didn’t seem to understand, so Jon made his thoughts clear. “Weapons made of dragonglass kill White Walkers. So find Tyrion and tell him that our counter-offer is that one, we are allowed to mine and use the dragonglass found on Dragonstone and two, our army remains north for as long as the dead remain.”

 

* * *

 

The wedding took place two days later. Daenerys was planning to ride out with her army the next day, headed for the Reach with Olenna, while Jon was already beginning mining work. He planned to be back up north within a month or two. He wasn’t sure if his wife would be joining him at that time or if she had other plans. 

The wedding was planned by Tyrion and Davos and it blended Westorsi tradition with Dothraki celebration though it mostly followed the Faith of the Seven, as most royal weddings did. Tyrion had told Jon they could hold a second ceremony in Winterfell to be married before the old gods as well, which Jon had agreed to.

He hated wearing his finery, he felt uncomfortable in the expensive fabrics, and as he looked at the cloak Davos held for him, the one Sansa had made, he wished she could be here. Sansa and him had never been close and had their differences over the years, but she was the only family he had left, and he wished she was at his wedding.

But their allies were here, which he’d been assured was what was most important. Jon had sent a raven with the terms he’d negotiated and confirmation of the wedding. This one event would gain Daenerys Targaryen control of five of the Seven Kingdoms. His bride must be happy with that even if she wasn’t pleased with her northern bastard husband.

That wasn’t fair, Jon thought. Since agreeing to terms, the queen had been nothing but pleasant. Jon had spent some time in her company and it had been nice. She had been to so many places and held many fascinating stories. They sometimes talked for hours when they weren’t busy with their other plans. While Jon still wasn’t sure who Daenerys was and what this marriage would entail, he had grown confident that it wouldn’t be a total disaster. He liked her, she seemed to like him. Who knew? Maybe love would come like it had for his father.

Jon saw his bride, dressed in white fur and his breath caught at the sight of her. Gods, but she was beautiful. He knew that tonight would be no burden, as he’d wanted her since he’d first laid eyes on her. He knew beauty was no indication of Daenerys’ character or the success of their marriage, but at least the sex wouldn’t be a problem.

Davos had told him that the man performing the ceremony had been Stannis’ septon before his conversion to following the Lord of Light years ago. He was old and rickety and made Jon wish that Tyrion had stuck with his original plan of just doing it himself.

The wedding itself was short and sweet, the negotiations had been the hardest part of the entire process. Jon still wished his new wife believed him about the threat beyond the wall, but he would have enough weapons to fight at least.

Though he had every intention of using every moment he had with Daenerys to try to convince her to bring her army north.

The kiss to finish the ceremony had been awkward as neither of them seemed to know where to place their hands or how deep the kiss should be. Jon was no longer used to public displays of affection and he had no idea what was appropriate for a public kiss between a king and queen. The only king Jon had ever seen kiss someone in public had been Robert Baratheon, and he didn’t want to model his behavior after that man.

Before the official feast in the castle, the queen took her new king on a tour through the Dothraki camp, which was celebrating the wedding. They sat on makeshift thrones, as people presented the khaleesi and khal with their gifts. Though Jon noticed they didn’t seem overly excited. He wondered if one of the horse lords had hoped to marry Daenerys. When he asked she told him no.

She told him, “A Dothraki wedding is considered to be quite a dull affair if there aren’t at least three deaths. And I insisted that my wedding be a boring one, as they’ll have plenty of killing to do soon enough.”

Jon looks horrified for a minute before he begins to chuckle. “What’s so funny, my lord? I mean, your grace.” It was strange to hear Daenerys addressing him as a king, Jon thought. Even as his wife, she still seemed so above him.

“Well, I was going to say how different our cultures were until I remembered that every royal wedding in this realm has ended with a dead king as of late. So we aren’t any better.” Jon had been drinking from a wineskin that one of the warriors had given him earlier, the taste reminding him of the horrid stuff Tormund had always plied him with during his time with the Free Folk. He put the skin down by his feet, remembering the Purple Wedding and realizing if there was going to be a dead king at this wedding, it would be him.

Daenerys seemed to understand. She placed a hand on his thigh, which made him tense further. “No one is going to poison you, Jon.” He looked at her when she used his first name; he wanted to hear her say it again. She had been speaking Dothraki for the last hour, so hearing a simple name like Jon fall from her lips almost sounded exotic. She continued, letting her hand stroke his thigh a bit, “And if anyone tried, I would feed them to my dragons.”

Jon smiled softly and placed his hand over hers. “Thank you, your grace. It’s gratifying to have such a fierce protector.”

Daenerys laughed at that, but Jon wasn’t sure why. He could easily imagine his wife as a fierce warrior, dressed in armor and leathers. He moved his hand to entwine his fingers with hers.

They held hands for the remainder of the day.

 

* * *

 

This wasn’t Daenerys’ first wedding night. She was no virgin and she had no real reason to be nervous. None of this was new to her, yet she was having another glass of wine to shut down her brain just a little. Perhaps it was an extension of her still getting used to Westeros. She had hoped that returning to her homeland would have filled that sense of belonging she longed for since childhood, but it had only felt strange to her. 

Though oddly enough, Jon didn’t make her feel like an oddity. She felt comfortable around him in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe it was because he understood the responsibility and loneliness that came from being at the top. She was a queen; he was a king; they were equals. Daenerys could never recall a relationship with a true equal before.

Still, she was lingering in the antechamber longer than necessary as she had changed into her silken nightdress minutes ago. She just wasn’t quite ready to face Jon.

Daenerys wasn’t sure why she felt that way. It wasn’t like Drogo, when she was a fearful girl, terrified of what he’d do to her, but it wasn’t like Daario either, when she had complete control over the situation. Jon was an equal, and he would be in their bedroom as well. And while her feelings for him weren’t strong, they did exist. She would walk away from him tomorrow, but her heart ached just a bit at the thought of separation. She liked Jon. He was easy to talk to and seemed like a kind, good man and a good king.

It didn’t help that she felt guilty about lying to him. She had asked Tyrion if her inability to bare children should be brought up during the negotiations, as she didn’t want to suffer the embarrassment of an annulment later. But Tyrion had assured her that they would address that problem further into the marriage.

Daenerys suspected it was a lie. She knew Tyrion worried about it too. He just didn’t want to open the opportunity for Jon to demand more in their marriage contract.

She put it out of her mind, smoothed out some imaginary wrinkles from her silk and walked into her, now their, bedchamber. Jon had been sitting on the bed, clearly thinking hard about something, but he jumped to his feet at her entrance.

He was dressed in a night shirt and leggings. His feet were bare and his hair was down. He was handsome, Daenerys thought. Probably the most traditionally handsome man she’d ever been with.

“Your grace,” he said, followed swiftly by, “Daenerys.”

Daenerys smiled a bit at his nerves. She wondered something and asked, “Are you a virgin, my king?”

The question made him uncomfortable, and he shifted from one foot to the other. Daenerys insisted, “It’s a fair question. You were barely into your manhood when you left for the Wall.”

“I was 15,” Jon said. “And no, I’m not a virgin.”

Daenerys sat on the bed, causing Jon to take a step back from it. She thought it strange he wanted to give her personal space, considering what they would have to do here. She laid her legs in an enticing fashion. “Some Winterfell servant girl?”

“No, a wildling woman from beyond the Wall.”

Daenerys frowned. “Wouldn’t that have been after your vows?”

Jon looked away from his new wife. “Yes.”

He was very monosyllabic, Daenerys thought. Though Tyrion had told her that men in the North weren’t known for their conversational skills. Jorah certainly hadn’t been. Not that it mattered in a husband. She moved her legs to open them and said, “Shall we get to it then?”

Jon frowned, but took a step forward. “We don’t have to do this tonight, if you don’t want to.”

Daenerys felt something in her heart soften at his kind words. But she knew her duty, still she moved to kneel on the bed, drawing Jon to her with soft touches. She smirked, “If you wanted to keep your virtue in tact, you should have stayed up north.”

Jon placed his hands over hers, gently stopping her. “My sister has been involved in three arranged marriages, just like you. I will not be a horror story to you the way Bolton was to her.”

Daenerys really looked at her husband for the first time. He was handsome, but now she noticed the roughness of one of hands, the scars around his eyes, the sadness found in his entire manner. This was a man who knew tragedy, perhaps as well as she did. She smiled at him, “Tyrion is right. You will be a kind husband.” She pulled her hands out from under his, bringing them to his face. He leaned into her touch. “You’ve already exceeded the men who came before you, just by asking.”

Not letting him question her, Daenerys pulled his lips to her, kissing him. He responded eagerly, his tightly reigned control slipping, showing Daenerys why one of his nicknames was the white wolf.

She wished he would let himself be untethered. His animalistic urges brought forth her own, and their tongues and teeth clashed. But he eventually forced them both to slow.

He pushed her to her back but remained gentle. They continued to kiss, as he let his hands wander over her curves. Daenerys grew frustrated with the gentleness. She wrapped her legs around Jon’s waist and forced him to his back. He gasped in surprise as she smirked looking down at him. One of her braids had gotten loose and silver hair spilled over her eye. She left it be as she crawled up her still far too clothed husband.

She nuzzled her smooth cheek against his bearded one, enjoying the clash of textures, her eyes closing. She moved her head to kiss him again. He responded, eagerly.

Daenerys pulled away and Jon’s lips chased her, causing her to give him a small smile. She forced him back down as her hands explored his firm body. “What do you know of the Dothraki?” she asked.

Jon’s eyes were closed, his breathing forcibly even. “Not much, only rumors.” His eyes opened, connecting with Daenerys’ and making her breath catch for a moment. “Much like their queen.”

Daenerys smiled again, tugging on his laces so she could remove his shirt. “Khaleesi,” she said motioning for him to sit up. He complied. “A queen is called khaleesi in Dothraki.” She pulled his tunic over his head and threw it to the side, uncaring as to where it fell. “A king is called a khal.”

“Khaleesi,” his northern rogue butchered the Dothraki word, but he kissed her, making her forget his pronunciation. He pulled her hips to his, proving that if nothing else her new husband wasn’t impotent.

When the kiss was broken for the necessity of air, Jon asked, “Is Dothraki your native tongue?”

Gods, but the man knew how to kiss. Daenerys took a moment to regain her breath. “No, Valyrian is.” She gave him a brief kiss. Then she added, “You may get to hear me speak it tonight, if you please me.”

Jon didn’t seem to react for a moment. Then he grabbed her legs with his strong arms, flipping them, forcing her beneath him. Daenerys was surprised by the action, it had been years since anyone had dared such a thing with her. But as Jon’s hands caressed her bare legs under her silken skirts, she realized that Jon Snow was a king. Why shouldn’t he take what he wants?

The thought made Daenerys shiver. She hadn’t thought about what it would be like to go to bed with an equal, a true equal. Not a man who forced her there nor a man who she permitted there, but a man who belonged here in her bed. A man she had chosen.

Daenerys gasped as she felt Jon’s beard brush against her thigh as he kissed her. When had he moved there, she thought. Then Jon moved up her thigh and any further thoughts left her.

He cursed when he made it to her bare cunt. Jon growled, “Where is your hair?”

Daenerys tried to shift her hips away from him, but Jon’s grip tightened, keeping her where she was. “It’s the style in Essos, to wax it. Is that not the custom here?”

“No,” Jon growled again.

Worried, she asked, “Do you not like it?”

Jon licked her from one end of her slit to the next, causing a loud moan to escape Daenerys. “No, I have the exact opposite feelings, I think.”

His tongue began to lick in earnest. Daenerys moaned again. She fell back, her hands tightly gripping the pillow behind her head. The feelings he was causing in her were incredible. He wasn’t the first man to do this to her, but his eager lapping pleased her more than Daario’s perfect technique. She moaned louder as he inserted one finger than a second into her canal.

Daenerys hadn’t expected this from her political match. Sure, she had assumed, or hoped, her handsome husband would please her in bed, but she had predicted him to make love like a Dothraki. That he would overwhelm her with his force and not really care about foreplay. It was a joy to learn that her dour northern husband had a few surprises in him.

Jon’s lips encircled her clit and he began to suck in earnest, as he pumped his fingered in and out of her. It didn’t take long for Daenerys to unravel completely under his talented attentions. As she came back to herself, Jon took the moment to strip her completely, as well as remove his britches.

She looked at her husband’s naked body, and it was more beautiful than she could have imagined. Though she noticed the nasty scars on his chest for the first time and when he came back to her, she gently touched one of them. “Who did this to you?” she whispered.

He seemed uncomfortable with the attention, but Daenerys couldn’t pull her eyes from the deep, red welts. How did he survive such an attacked. “No one important,” Jon dismissed. “They are all dead now.”

Good, she thought. She would hate for one of her first acts as queen of Westeros to be hunting down and killing the men who did this to her sweet husband. She grabbed Jon by the hair and tugged him to her waiting lips. She kissed him fiercely, claiming him in a way that was more primal than the vows they’d exchanged earlier. She nipped at his lips, until she accidentally drew blood. Jon didn’t seem to mind. Instead he gathered her into his lap, wanting to be closer to her.

Daenerys could feel his erection against her belly and she reached a hand down to stroke it. Now it was Jon’s turn to moan. She found she quite liked the sound and determined to continue, but Jon stopped her. “I have a job to do tonight and if you keep that up, it’s not going to happen. And I would hate to disappoint my queen.”

She smiled. “Are you always so eager, my king?”

He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. Really look at him. “For you, yes, always. I couldn’t have dreamed you up in a thousand years, Daenerys.”

Her heart melted at his words. Daenerys was used to flattery, but Jon seemed an honest man, unused to court flattery. She suspected his beautiful words to be his honest thoughts. So she stopped stroking, instead guiding him into her as she sank down on him.

He stretched her and made her feel like some missing piece of her had just been returned. He exhaled deeply as she struggled to catch her breath despite neither of them moving. The stayed still, but connected for a moment, allowing their bodies to acclimate. Then, Daenerys moved.

It was heavenly. Though it didn’t take long for their gently movement to turn to violent thrusts, Jon nearly bucking her off, as Daenerys tightened her thighs to keep her seat. She was too good a rider to let Jon Snow get the best of her.

Though it was Jon Stark now, wasn’t it? She had legitimized him before the wedding. He had seriously considered taking her name, but had ultimately decided that he wanted to share his name with his sister. Daenerys wondered what the sister would be like.

Such thoughts stopped as Jon found the spot within her that caused her to instantly groan. A smart man, he repeated his actions to keep hitting her there as Daenerys did her best to force his climax as she felt hers approaching rapidly.

They came together, or at least close enough that neither could have told you whose orgasm set off the other’s. Daenerys’ fingernails dug into Jon’s shoulders as Jon’s fingers gripped her hips tight enough to bruise.

When they finished they collapsed against each other, propping each other up to stay seated up. After a moment, when she could, Daenerys guided them both to lie down on the bed. He drew the furs over them as Daenerys thought about their future. They hadn’t really discussed anything past the wars, but Daenerys found herself hoping they would both survive the fights ahead. She wanted to get to know her husband, wanted him to get to know her.

More sex would be good too, she thought with a smile, before it faded. She hadn’t told him that sex would only be for pleasure as her womb was barren. But as he moved to put an arm around her, she thought now was not the time to bring up such a topic.

“I was wrong,” he said as he tucked her under his arm.

“Wrong about what?” Daenerys asked, cuddling closer to him.

“You are cuddlier than a Thenn,” he said, kissing the top of her head. Daenerys laughed and moved her head to meet his kiss. They kissed as she pulled him over her, letting him lead this time. She was ready to go again.

It didn’t take long before he was ready too.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, without waking her new husband for a good-bye, Daenerys flew off to battle.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before Daenerys returned. Jon watched from the cave entrance as her dragon landed. He was awed by the sight of the first dragonrider of a century. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should walk up to greet his wife or continue his work.

Davos decided for him, “I’ll handle things here. Go talk to your wife and find out what happened.”

Jon made his way up the stairs and to the cliffs where the dragons nested. He hadn’t been able to get their mother from his mind. He had thought, hoped, the sex would be good, but he hadn’t been prepared for just how amazing she had been. How well they suited each other.

Jon hadn’t liked waking to an empty bed, liked having their empty bed to himself for the past few weeks. It was strange how quickly he became used to her in his arms.

Still, he hadn’t expected her back this soon. Either something had gone very wrong or horribly right. Jon wasn’t sure which one he was hoping for.

He saw her on the cliffs, petting her massive beast. A speck of white against a large black backdrop from a distance. He had hoped that his mind had exaggerated her beauty in her absence, but as he grew closer, he discovered that his memories paled in comparison to her true beauty.

When he came upon her, he realized he didn’t know what to stay or ask, so instead he stood, watching her pet Drogon silently. Letting her speak first.

“You were right,” she told him. “The Tarlys betrayed the Tyrells and Lannister army helped them.” She paused. “It was exactly what I didn’t want, a battle between my _foreign invaders_ and Westorsi men.”

He nodded. “Why are you here, Dany?”

Jon noticed Daenerys shoot him a look at the nickname. Had he done something wrong? They were married, but perhaps they weren’t quite close enough for that. But she ignored it, instead explaining how the battle went, how she destroyed the other army though they’d managed to bring down her son with a bolt. Then she got to the end, where she hesitated.

“I gave the Tarlys a choice. They chose death.” She noticed Jon’s recognition at the name. “You know the Tarlys?”

“Samwell Tarly is probably my best friend.”

Daenerys bit her lip, looking away from her husband. The huge dragon rose up and walked away, Jon noticed one of its wings seemed injured.  “You must think me a monster then.”

“No,” Jon said. Daenerys’ head whipped around to look at him. “Every man goes into battle with the knowledge he may die or lose. Every man goes into battle with their mind made up as to which option they will take. Randyll Tarly chose to die. That’s not on you.”

Daenerys looked at him, as though seeing him for the first time. It was an intimate look, far more intimate than any look she’d given him on their wedding night. Jon felt a bit uncomfortable under such a gaze, but he also felt warmed by it. It made him uncomfortable by virtue of being new and different, but he found he could get used to it. He could love such a look from this woman.

He tried to cut such emotions off, sensing a dangerous path. His pulling back caused her to reaffirm her walls as well, which made Jon regret his actions.

They stood in silence for a moment, but Daenerys broke it by asking, “You were right about the Lannisters attacking.” She paused. “Tell me more about these dead men.”

Jon told her everything. He told her about the deserter his father had executed, he told her about the attack when he was a steward that burned his hand, he told her about Hardhome, he told her everything he could think of to convince her of the danger.

“But why do you need my army to come north? Won’t the Wall keep them out? Isn’t that what it was built for?”

“The Wall had been undermanned and under equipped for over a century. We don’t have the resources to stop them if the dead come.”

“We?” Daenerys noticed.

“I may not be a brother any more, but I know the men on the Wall. They are good men, but they are only men. I don’t know what magic drives our enemy, but it’s a dark and ancient one. We need more men to keep them behind the Wall. We need weapons and resources, we need to through everything we have at this foe in order to defeat it. Because if we don’t win, all of humanity will die.”

“How is it that you walked away from your vows? Those scars on your chest, Jon, how…” She didn’t finish the question, looking away from him, clearly frustrated. Jon didn’t know how to answer that, wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her about the time he’d died.

She watched her dragons. Jon could see that the black one didn’t fly as smoothly as he once did, but then she’d mentioned that he’d been injured in battle. Daenerys commented, “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

Jon wouldn’t use the word beautiful to describe the dragons, but he certainly would use it for their mother. Sensing it would be best to agree with his wife on this point, Jon said, “Aye, they are gorgeous beasts.”

“They aren’t beasts to me.” Jon still managed to upset his wife. “They are my children.” She seemed to want to say more, but she held her tongue. Then she asked, “Did you ever hear the story of how I birthed them?”

Jon had heard rumors, had read the letter to Aemon about when Daenerys gained her dragons, but he wanted to hear it from her. She told him the story. About her dead baby, her dead husband, burning the witch who murdered them alive with them, and walking into a funeral pyre with her dragon eggs, only to emerge unscathed and with three baby dragons.

It was an amazing tale. Jon might not have believed it, but the way she told it, he knew it was true. He knew this woman was already more legend than real woman. He remembered when he rose from the dead, Tormund told him that some of the wildlings thought him some kind of god. It wasn’t true, but if it had been, then he was now married to his own living goddess.

He thought about telling her then, trading her amazing story for his own. But Daenerys sighed and turned to the castle. “I need a hot bath and a good meal.” She began to walk away, but stopped her head looking over her shoulder. “Will you come to me tonight, Jon?”

Jon wondered what the right answer was to that, as he only knew what he wanted. “Only if you want me to, Daenerys.”

She frowned and Jon quite adored the little indent she got between her brows when she did that. She turned back to face him fully. “I do not wish to force you either.”

Jon took a few steps forward in a flash. His hand cupped her cheek and he kissed her softly. “It will never be forced.” He had nearly said I love you, but he stopped himself, fearful of such words. Where had they come from? He did not have time for love. This was a political match and nothing more.

Northern fool, he cursed himself, even as Daenerys nodded and smiled at him before leaving.

Jon turned to look out over the sea, his fur cape whipping around him. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her, only marry her.

He brooded on the cliffside for over an hour.

 

* * *

 

Queens did not wait for anyone, not even kings or husbands. Still Daenerys brushed her hair and waited for her husband to appear at her door.

She wondered if was more upset with her conduct in the war than he’d let on. He was already annoyed with her for deciding to secure the south before going north, perhaps this only increased his negative opinion of her.

But then her husband didn’t seem to have a negative opinion of her. He seemed to treat her as an equal and respect her fully. He even seemed to care for her, in his way. He was shaping up to be a near perfect husband.

She put down her brush. She didn’t like it. No man was perfect, and if she had ever thought they were it always lead to crushing disappointment later. Jon Stark would be no different, she guessed.

But she had missed him when she was gone. She didn’t know him well, but she trusted him enough to give her honest advice. He’d proven that much to her anyway. And she had quite liked falling asleep in his arms, it had been hard to leave him that morning. Part of her wanted to just send a message to Olenna Tyrell that she’d join the old woman later, and fly on her dragon, so she could spend more time with her new, comely husband.

She guessed that the Queen of Thrones would have merely laughed at her, but she couldn’t risk any disrespect. Her Westeros alliances were too new and fragile to test too much. She had learned such lessons in Essos about how alliances only lasted for as long as they needed to.

Three sharp knocks at her door, pulled Daenerys from her thoughts. “Enter,” she called out, expecting a messenger from Yara and the Martells on their progress.

So she was surprised when her husband’s image appeared in her mirror behind her. She gasped and he looked down before glancing to the closed door. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, your grace.”

Were they back to titles? Now Daenerys really wished she hadn’t left his arms all those nights ago. She stood to hug him. He hugged her back, almost clinging to her desperately. “You don’t need to knock, Jon. As my husband this is your bedchamber as well.” She pulled away eyeing him. “I was surprised you didn’t sleep here while I was away. It’s the best room in the castle.”

She moved to sit by the enormous fireplace, which was lit and going strong. She admired the beauty of it even as she appreciated the warmth it generated. She must not have been the only Targaryen that was warm-blooded.

Jon sat next to her. “My room is fine. I’m used to servant quarters, so I don’t need a grand bedroom.”

Daenerys arched an eyebrow. “Servants’ quarters,” she questioned. “I thought you were raised in Winterfell as the lord’s son?”

“Yes, but not the Lady’s,” Jon shifted in his seat and looked away.

Daenerys frowned at the implication. “Did she mistreat you?”

Jon hesitated to answer. Finally he said, “She endured my presence. Little more could be asked from her.”

Daenerys’ anger rose almost immediately. “You were just a child! It wasn’t your sin, but your father’s. Why take it out on you?”

Jon shrugged. “Put yourself in her shoes. She was married to my father forever, like it or not. She would have to forgive him, but not me. It was fine. Many had it much worse than I ever did. I learned that on the Wall.”

“Still, I don’t like it. Children shouldn’t be punished for the sins of their parents.” Her fingers stroked the dragon head carved into the chair she was sitting on. “I would be hypocrite if I felt any other way, considering my father’s sins. I will build a new Westeros, one where bastards, dwarves and other broken people are protected.”

Daenerys saw the look Jon gave her, like she was the sun he was seeing for the first time. “People will resist,” he said. “Lords don’t like change.”

She looked at the fire. It was beautiful in its controlled chaos. Her hand gripped the dragon head at the edge of her armrest. “Men and women can live in my new world; or die in their old one.”

Jon stood and Daenerys waited for him to walk out, finally convinced he’d married a monster. But instead he walked over, taking her hand from the dragon. He knelt before her so they were eye to eye. Daenerys was amazed by this action, by this man. He kissed her palm. “They told me stories of the fierce Dragon Queen, the ruthless conqueror who fed men to her dragons, but when I first saw you on that great black throne, I thought it must have all been nonsense. How could such a beautiful, delicate woman be the same I’d heard so many stories about? But you are her. You are strong and fierce, but you aren’t heartless. You love your people and they love you. You are strong because you had to be. You’re fierce because the world is harsh and cruel and you know that and act accordingly. But you protect your people, not to keep your crown but because you love them. I’ve been talking to those on your island, and your people love you too.”

Daenerys was speechless. Who was this man she’d married? How could he be so near perfect? She tried to force her heart to stop beating so wildly. She tried to stop herself from falling for the man who was just supposed to be her key to securing a northern alliance, nothing more.

She was failing miserably.

Jon stood, his hand still holding hers. “Come to bed with me, Dany.”

She frowned at the nickname and he noticed and asked. She explained, “Viserys used to call me that.”

“Your brother?” Jon clearly didn’t understand.

“He was weak man and a terrible brother.” Daenerys didn’t want to speak about it further and Jon dropped it. She followed his guidance to the bed. Their clothes melted away as they kissed and caressed, taking the care they hadn’t in their first night together. They explored each other’s bodies fully with an insatiable curiosity.

None of her previous lovers had ever been like this -- demanding yet worshipful. Drogo had been demanding and Daario worshiping, but never had Daenerys imagined a lover who could be both simultaneously. She found it suited her tastes perfectly.

Daenerys enjoyed her husband’s attentions all night, returning every gift he gave her.

 

* * *

 

They shared a few blissful weeks together. Jon worked in the caves most of the time, while Daenerys received progress reports from a returning Tyrion. At one point, Jon took Daenerys into the caves, trying to convince her again to come north with him.

She wanted to stay with him, but she just couldn’t believe him, or at least, she didn’t want to. Hadn’t she been through enough? Did she really have to face some ancient enemy as well?

Daenerys did her best to ignore the feeling that kept growing stronger that Jon was telling the truth and she would be forced to face this Night King sooner or later.

Jon didn’t push too hard, but she could tell her refusal annoyed him. If they could just see eye-to-eye on that one issue, they might just be perfect for each other.

She still hadn’t told him her secret. She worried the more she put it off, the worse it would be, the more deceitful it would be. But when she asked about his scars, she was rebuffed. She even tried Davos, who also seemed reluctant to speak about them beyond them being proof of Jon’s leaderships skills.

Daenerys didn’t understand, but she supposed she didn’t have to. She cuddled in closer to her husband as she willed the morning to wait a few minutes more before forcing her away from Jon.

But the morning didn’t listen, as a sharp knock at the door alerted both queen and king to their daily duties. Jon seemed just as reluctant as her to leave her, as he kissed her while she called out, “What is it?”

To her surprise, Davos answered, “I have a message from Winterfell for Jon and Tyrion and Missandei will be arriving shortly for you, your grace.”

Daenerys groaned even as she pushed Jon away. He sighed before rising from the bed to collect his things. Daenerys enjoyed the view for a moment, especially how his butt looked when he bent to gather his boots.

Then she got up and began her day as well. “Thank Sir Davos, please send in my handmaids, if you can.”

“Aye,” she heard Davos say before his heavy boots walked away. Jon came up behind her, hugging her as he kissed the top of her head. She smiled at him through the mirror, and he smiled back. She was seeing that smile more lately and she quite liked it.

“I’ll see you tonight?” he asked, lightly massaging her shoulder.

It endeared her that he could still question her feelings for him, though it also made her wonder why he distrusted love so. Though based on what he’d told her, he’d suffered almost as much as she had. She reassured him, “Of course.”

He kissed her again, before leaving her to prepare for her day.

She had no idea what the day would bring at that time, still basking in Jon’s affection and the love they were building together even as the world warred on their behalves. It was time for the world to intrude on the private on they’d built for themselves on this island.

 

* * *

 

Jon read the note again, not believing the words. Arya? Bran? Alive? At Winterfell. It couldn’t be. 

But why would Sansa lie?

He thought of his wife. Jon wanted to bring Daenerys to Winterfell, wanted to introduce her to his family. He wanted to wrap his arms around Arya, wanted to see Bran healthy again.

But he had bigger concerns. He was a king and his duty and his people had to come first. It had become clear to him now. He was wasting time with Daenerys, enjoying his time with her too much. He wasn’t focusing on the greater threat. The Night King was coming for all of the living, and here he was spending his time in bed with the queen.

Arya and Bran were alive and now directly in the path of the Night King if the Wall fell. Jon would be damned if he lost his family again before he even got a chance to see them again.

He would remedy that now. He ordered Davos to begin packing. The old man seemed confused by his king’s words, but kept quiet. Jon calculated how much dragonglass they’d mined. It would have to be enough.

Jon took a deep breath as he went to look for the queen, his wife.

He found her talking with Tyrion and Missandei in the room with the painted table. Daenerys didn’t look happy. Jon hesitated at the sight of his wife upset, but he pushed in, ignoring his instinct to knock and wait. He was Daenerys’ husband. Her home was his and a man didn’t knock on public doors in his own home.

Everyone looked up at him as he entered. Tyrion frowned at him, studying him. “You look different. Why aren’t you brooding?”

Jon ignored him, focusing on Daenerys. “What happened?”

“The Greyjoy fleet was attacked and destroyed. Two allies gone.” She swept away the sun and kraken from the table. “And I’m right back to where I started in this war.”

Tyrion interjected, “We could still take Casterly Rock. Same plan as before. It would be a symbolic victory if nothing else.”

“No, we need to attack Cersei directly.” Daenerys sat, staring at King’s Landing. “But to do that, we’ll have to starve her out. I don’t want the people to suffer for her greed.”

Jon let her think for a moment, but cleared his throat after awhile. He still had to get his ship back from her and prepare it, after all. Daenerys’ attention snapped to him at his cleared throat. “Did you need something Jon?"

Jon opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Davos entering. His Hand stood by him, which made Tyrion’s eyes narrow. Jon held up the scroll he’d received from Winterfell. “I’ve just received news from Winterfell. Arya and Bran are alive and there now.”

Daenerys smiled. “I’m happy for you, Jon.” Jon’s face remained dour. “You don’t look happy.”

“I have to go back,” Jon said. “My family needs me. My people need me. I’ve leaving as soon as I’m able.”

“No,” Daenerys answered immediately. The blood had drained from her face. “No, you can’t go.”

“Of course I can go. I am a king.” Jon tried to keep any emotion from his voice.

“No, you can’t go because...because...Tyrion, tell him why he can’t go.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow at his queen. “I understand that Hands wipe up the shit their rulers create, but I don’t think solving marriage problems is in my job description.”

Daenerys didn’t look amused, but Jon couldn’t stop a smirk at the quip. “Out,” Daenerys ordered. “Everybody but Jon, out.”

Davos took Jon by the shoulder and leaned in to whisper, “She is your wife. Not your queen or your subject. Remember that. Don’t order her around or she’ll just dig her heels in deeper. Woman’s as stubborn as you are.”

Jon nodded. The room cleared leaving Daenerys and Jon alone. Daenerys said, “You can’t just leave.”

Jon attempted to swallow his anger, to remain calm and treat her as his wife. “I can and I must. Daenerys, my people need me. The Night King is real and if you saw the threat he possessed, you’d understand why dealing with him must come first.”

Daenerys inhaled, her hands were clasped in her lap and Jon could see how white they were. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one holding back his temper. “So you’ll leave and then what? I’ll get ravens from you occasionally to let me know you’re still alive?”

Jon ran a hand through his hair, forgetting he’d tied it up and making it a mess. “No, I want you to come with. I want you to be by my side, always.”

She looked down at her hands. “I want that too,” she whispered. Jon’s heart leapt at the confession. But then she looked up and he was the tears in her eyes. “But…”

The door opened, interrupting the moment. Jon turned to chew out whoever intruded, but found himself looking at the calculating gaze of Olenna Tyrell. She walked to the table, taking a seat. “Sorry I’m late. These old bones just are made for travel any more.” She looked sharply from queen to king. “What did I miss exactly?”

Daenerys, who had wiped her eyes, “I dismissed everyone, Lady Tyrell. I wish to have a conversation with my husband, and him alone."

“Yes, I know. They are all outside the door like puppies waiting for a treat. But queens and kings don’t get to have private discussions, not when it concerns the realm.”

“Lady Olenna, it is a private matter. We will let the rest of you know if our decisions affect you. Please wait outside.”

The queen of thrones turned to look at Jon with narrow eyes. “I’m sorry. Are you two discussing how you keeping spilling your load ten seconds in her? I can help you two with that problem.”

Jon blushed furiously and began to stutter. He always thought Tyrion’s jokes about northern prudes had little basis in reality, but he was beginning to see the little man’s point. Daenerys had no such prudishness and answered, “No, he doesn’t have that problem.”

“Oh, well, many blessings then,” Lady Olenna said. “You still haven’t said what you were talking about.”

Jon was still struggling to recover, taking deep breaths in and out. Daenerys answered for the both of them. “The King in the North received some happy news and wishes to return home.”

Olenna’s eyes narrowed on the queen now. “Oh, so that very much concerns the rest of us.”

Jon, able to speak, asked, “How does it concern you?”

“Because the two of you were stupid enough to fall in love with each other, so the queen doesn’t want to leave you. If she goes with you, her dragons and her armies will follow, leaving the rest of us to Cersei’s mercy.”

Jon knew it wasn’t the most important part of what she’d said, but when Olenna said they were in love, his eyes immediately looked to Daenerys, who turned away with a blush. Could it be? Did she love him as he loved her? Could such a miracle be real?

He forced himself back to reality. There was no time for such feelings and foolishness. “The real threat is in the North, my lady. Daenerys should follow me for that. The realm needs her armies and her dragons to protect us all from the Night King and his army.” Jon felt like he’d spent years repeating that same line over and over again. You’d think by know he would have found the right words to get people to believe him.

Olenna sighed. “You may have a monster beyond that Wall of yours, but there are all kinds of monsters and Cersei is the worst I’ve ever met.” Her eyes turned to the queen. “She will not stand idly by if you go north. If you march out, she will march in. The Reach pledged itself to the true queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Will you abandon it?”

Daenerys looked down at the map, her eyes darting between the Wall, the North, the Reach and King’s Landing. She ordered, “Bring Tyrion back in here.”

Olenna must not have been lying because the room filled with advisers almost instantly. They must have waited outside the door. Jon looked to Davos who tried to ask him how it went, Jon barely shook his head.

Daenerys asked Tyrion, "How do we keep the siege around King's Landing, protect the Reach and reinforce the North?"

Jon frowned. He needed Daenerys to send all of her forces north to even have a chance against the Night King, not just a portion of them. But before he could say anything, Tyrion answered, "You can't. You have to decide. North or South?"

Daenerys sighed and stood. She touched the direwolf piece, then the flower. She bent to pick up the sun and kraken. "Have we heard what became of Yara Greyjoy and Ellaria Sand?"

Tyrion looked down, "They were marched through the streets of King's Landing by Euron Greyjoy. That's the last anyone's seen of them. Probably will remain the last anyone has seen of them."

Daenerys nodded. "Do we know what's happened to Theon Greyjoy?"

"Theon's alive?" Jon asked. He wanted to murder that betraying fuck for what he'd done to his family. He'd always hated Theon. Theon who thought himself so much better than Jon because he was highborn and paid women to fuck him. He had reminded Jon everyday that he was less than, he was almost worse that Catelyn Stark, because she at least had an excuse. Theon was just a hateful asshole.

But then Theon had also saved Sansa. She might still be suffering under Bolton's abuse and Winterfell under flayed man banners if he hadn't helped her. But did one good deed make up for a lifetime of shitty ones?

Jon decided he wouldn't kill Theon since he hadn't killed Brann and Rickon, but he still might punch him if the little shit showed his face here.

“You know Theon Greyjoy?” Daenerys asked.

Jon realized how much Daenerys still had to learn about Westeros and its politics. He wanted to teach her. He wanted to tell her everything he knew and answer he questions as best he could. He wanted to stay with her.

But the world didn’t care what men wanted. All that mattered was what men did and Jon had a mission. He had come down here for one reason. “Yes, Theon Greyjoy was my father’s ward. We basically grew up together.” Jon could tell Daenerys had more questions, but he kept going. “The Night King is marching towards as we sit here debating. We don’t have time for this. His army is 100,000 strong and growing. They feel no pain or cold. They require no food or sleep. We’ve already lost several battles against him, but we cannot afford to lose the war. If we don’t ban together now, all of Westeros will die.”

“You’ll never get Cersei to join,” Olenna said. “So she’ll need to be destroyed first either way.”

Tyrion sat with a contemplative look on his face. He asked, “What about proof?”

“What?” Jon didn’t understand what he was asking.

“Proof,” Tyrion said. “Evidence these White Walkers exist. Show us something. Give us something  better than your word before we pledge all of our resources to your cause.”

Jon’s jaw tightened, but as he looked around at the wary faces in this room he realized that Tyrion was right. He nodded.

“What about Cersei?” Daenerys asked.

Tyrion sighed. “She wouldn’t believe it. She thinks it’s all a story. She might believe proof.”

“Cersei Lannister,” Olenna snorted. “That woman may call herself a lioness, but she’s really a snake. She won’t’ believe anything you say and she’ll betray us all the first chance she gets.” The old woman stood. “We must deal with her first.”

The old woman walked out and Daenerys agreed with her. “She’s right. Even if we had proof, how would we show it to Cersei?”

“We could set up a meeting,” Tyrion said. He spelled out a plan where he convinced his brother who would in turn convince Cersei to call a ceasefire.

Jon thought it to be a bit of a crap plan, but he couldn’t think of anything better. And it got him what he wanted: Daenerys would come north with her dragons and her armies.

 

* * *

 

It was strange how quickly Daenerys had become accustomed to having Jon in her bed. She would miss him greatly, which scared her. How she become so attached so quickly? It shouldn’t be possible. Still, Tyrion was expected back with Davos any day now, and when he'd return Jon would leave.

Daenerys didn’t want him to go. She wanted to cling to him and order him to stay. She wanted to go with him, but it was feared if she did that, Cersei would see it as her chance to strike out at the Reach to take it back. Daenerys had already ordered the Reach begin sending supplies and money north, just in case they needed to retreat. Olenna hadn't liked it, but she complied any way.

Daenerys caressed the scars on Jon’s chest, completely familiar with them now even though she still didn’t know the story behind them. She wanted to give him space, let him tell her on his own terms, but she was desperate to know how he survived what appeared to be fatal wounds.

He had other scars as well, and she had decided that someday she would ask him to tell her the story behind each and every one. She only hoped they would have that someday, as of now, the world seemed stacked against them.

Though it had been stacked against them their entire lives.

Jon’s eyes were closed but he asked, “What’s got you thinking so hard at this hour?”

She thought of him leaving, going on a stupid, suicidal mission. Why did he have to be a hero? Why did she always fall for those types? They all did stupid things and died. She wanted to yell at him, hate him, but she just couldn’t find the anger at him.

So she gathered her courage and sat up, keeping the furs to her chest not wanting to be completely vulnerable to him. Jon looked at her, concerned, sitting up as well. “What’s wrong, Dany?”

Daenerys’ eyes closed. How far could she push Jon? Love always had limits, she knew. What was Jon’s? Still she didn’t want to keep this from him anymore, especially if he died.

No, she would not let him die. She was the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. She was the Unburnt. She was the Breaker of Chains. She was the Queen of the Andals and the First Men. She was so much. She would not let the man she loved die. Not while she lived.

She looked at him, with all the courage she possessed and she told him, “My dragons are my children. They are the only children I’ll ever have. Do you understand?”

Jon frowned, his brow furrowing. “What?”

Daenerys repeated, “I’m barren. So I don’t want you to go off thinking that perhaps you left your wife behind with a son or daughter growing in her belly. I can’t even give you that comfort. I…” Daenerys felt her voice crack. “We’ll have no heirs. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I should have told you. It wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.” She began crying in earnest.

Jon gathered her into his arms, hugging her as he soothed her as one would a horse. She cried into his chest. “I’m sorry,” she kept repeating. When she finally calmed down. She pulled away, wiping away tears. “You must hate me now.”

Jon kept her close, wiping away her fresh tears with his thumbs. “No, I don’t know that I could ever hate you.”

“But I can’t give you a child.”

Jon looked sorrowful at the thought, but he said, “I was a bastard who joined the Night’s Watch. I never hoped to have a child. It doesn’t matter to me, Dany.”

Daenerys let out a strangled breath. She couldn’t believe this man. “How can you be so perfect? What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Jon smiled. “Funny, I ask myself the same thing about you.”

He leaned forward, capturing her lips with his. She wrapped her arms around him as they kissed with gentle passion. Soon she couldn’t ignore the change in under her, his soft lap had gone hard and she began to rub herself against it, making them both groan. It didn’t take long for her to impale herself on him and ride him.

They don’t say the word, love, but it’s said in every action. Every kiss. Every thrust. Every moan.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Jon left on the same ship he arrived on.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who’s wondering, I’m still working on my other Jonerys stories. I just got this prompt on Tumblr and a one-shot was easier to write, and this way anyone waiting can have something during the wait. God knows fans of A Song of Ice and Fire know how to wait, whether they like it or not.  


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